


Odd Couple

by NonbinaryHylian (chicagoartnerd)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alien Culture, Culture Shock, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Multi, Partners to Lovers, Ratchet is so done, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome - M/M/M, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagoartnerd/pseuds/NonbinaryHylian
Summary: The Decepticons and Autobots both want to form an alliance with the Omurians so when their factions are sent an invitation to meet with them they send their best. Unfortunately for Ratchet and Megatron neither one of their factions is good at translating Omurian into Neocybex.Now if they want to nab the alliance and not have the Omurian's side with the Black Box Consortia they've got to work together...and pretend to be the lovingly mated pair who rules over Cybertron.





	Odd Couple

**Author's Note:**

> I love love love fake married trope. And I couldn't get this idea out of my brain so here it is even though I've got more fic to post for Starbee week lol!!! You cannot tell me Ratchet and Megs wouldn't bond over their failed love of Optimus...it would happen okay.

Ratchet knew almost immediately that something was wrong. The shuttle’s autopilot set him down safely on the landing pad and the bay doors opened with a hiss to reveal a crowd of Omurians, their jewel toned many armed figures waving at him welcomingly. Towering above the crowd right smack dab in the middle of them was a very uncomfortable looking Megatron.

This had to be some kind of trap.

The Omurians had asked the Autobots to send a healer, intimating that the Decepticons would be sending one too. He had been expecting to have to deal with Knockout, Hook, or even Flatline for the next few cycles not the old slagmaker himself.

The fact that he was here certainly tipped the scales in favor of the Decepticons for making an alliance with the Omurians. Both sides desperately wanted to ally with them as the solar system they presided over was rich with rare ores and more energon than either group had seen outside of Golden Age Cybertron.

The Decepticons had probably considered just trying to conquer them and be done with it but the Omurian’s had Galactic Council tech, some of it developed by the Black Box Consortia. Tech that was designed to kill mechanicals, in obscenely large numbers. Both sides seemed to reach the same conclusion then, that they should try and charm the Omurians instead.  

Ratchet was no negotiator though, he had come because the Omurians had required medical aid, or their translation program had told them that was what they were asking for. He suddenly had a deep urge to wring Bluestreak’s jumper cables. That fast-mouthed little glitch thought he was so clever messing around with the translation tech, trying to “improve” its accuracy.

Although by the look of things the Decepticon’s tech wasn’t any better at figuring out what the Omurians had actually meant. There was that at least. Having Megatron as caught off guard as he was helped ease his foul mood a little. If the Decepticons sent him then that meant they thought the Omurians had wanted to speak to their leader. He was probably expecting Optimus to show up. No wonder he looked so disgruntled to see Ratchet instead.

He tried to keep his expression skeptically neutral as he disembarked. Before he thought better of it he sent a general comm ping towards Megatron. To his utter shock he answered it on his private comm channel, giving Ratchet the frequency easily.

**MG: I take it your faction had an even harder time deciphering who exactly the Omurians were asking for?**

Ratchet rolled his optics and cast a withering glare at him.

_RT: Fraggin’ Bluestreak. Our program translated their request as one for a healer. I take it yours translated it as asking to see a leader. You’ve been here slightly longer, you figure out what they were actually asking for?_

Megatron’s red optics actually looked pained and Ratchet raised a brow ridge at him.

**MG: Unfortunately yes. I’ll spare you the grim details but suffice to say neither one of our translation programs were wrong, they just failed to parse the nuance. The Omurians are ruled by a bonded pair made up of two members from different factions. One a group of philosopher healers, the other a group of protector/hunter warriors. When they heard of the Autobots and Decepticons they assumed we were the same way. To be fair under different circumstances our society very well might have been. So they asked us to send our bonded pair, one from each faction, so that they could parlay with us as an entire species.**

His optic visibly twitched at the last part as Ratchet shouted in his internal comms.

_RT: YOU’VE GOT TO BE FRELLING KIDDING ME!!!???_

**MG: Believe me, I really wish I was.**

Ratchet snorted out loud and all the gathered Omurians turned to look at him quizzically. Then one stepped forward, slightly taller than the others and extended their turquoise bisected legs in greeting.

Ratchet’s less than perfect translator supplied their words as best it could. “Greetings blessed Cybertronian ruler/mates. I am Pasarillia the master of the domain of Sunglass. The Omurian ruler/mates are still on their way from the capital and will be here within the next solar cycle. They have asked me to extend all honor and hospitality to you as if you were themselves. Anything at all you require you need only ask. I can lead you to the vaunted guest quarters after you greet each other as is customary to your people.”

Ratchet was confused at the last bit and looked at Megatron who had gone completely still, his optics smoldering in turmoil as they looked anywhere except at Ratchet.

**MG: They want us to make some public show of affection.**

Ratchet opened his mouth to let out a string of obscenities when Megatron stopped him by reaching out towards him, his EM field almost pleading. That made Ratchet pause his tirade and stare blankly for a bit. Megatron sighed and motioned him over with a large black hand.

**MG: Loathe as I am to share top secret intelligence with the enemy, we have proof that if this negotiation goes badly the Omurians are poised to join the Black Box Consortia. I don’t need to explain to you why that would be bad for both Autobots and Decepticons. Perhaps we can play along with this charade long enough to convince them not to genocide out entire race?**

Ratchet grit his teeth and wandered warily over closer, within reach of Megatron’s outstretched hand. He felt it grab him by the elbow and tried not to jump, reigning in his roiling field in tight against his plating.

Megatron pulled him in against his chest in a rigid hug, wrapping his arms around his back and shoulders protectively. His field was surprisingly apologetic instead of full of rage like Ratchet’s.

Which just made him even more angry. How dare he be the bigger mech about this mess? Ratchet moved his arms from where they were pinned against his chest and wrapped them roughly around Megatron’s hips before glaring up at him.

_RT: I hate you._

**MG: The feeling is entirely mutual, Autobot.**

_RT: GOOD._

With that Ratchet decided what the hell, he might as well get under Megatron’s plating a bit while they were here. Since he seemed so resigned to that fate and all. He took his arm, reached up behind his neck and used his considerable strength to push the larger bot’s face toward his, sealing their lips together.

Megatron’s field spiked with alarm as his arms tightened involuntarily around him and Ratchet smirked as he kissed him harder.

But of course the big gray pain in the aft couldn’t stay off balance for long because all of a sudden Ratchet found he was no longer in control of the kiss. Megatron licked along his lips into his mouth and Ratchet opened his in shock letting him in with a gasp. Frag. This wasn’t how his revenge was supposed to go.

And he should have been a lot angrier about the direction this little show was taking but Megatron was a maddeningly good kisser. Both their fields tangled together raw, hot, and angry. Ratchet actually broke apart from him first, shoving back just far enough that Megatron let him go without a struggle, his red optics burning with something like curiosity.

Ratchet tried not to let it show in his field but they were too close together. Both of them knew exactly how much the other had ended up enjoying that. He was so tempted to mutter about it only being a 4 million year dry spell but he couldn’t risk the Omurians overhearing it and understanding him so he kept it to himself. Not that he wanted Megatron to know he hadn’t kissed anyone in that long, well certainly not like that.

Pasarillia seemed appeased as they clicked their four clawed legs together excitedly. “Excellent display, quite passionate, almost as if you are newly bonded mates. Please do me the honor of following me to your vaunted quarters.”

With that the Omurian led them off the landing strip down into the twisting spiral staircase of the Sunglass citadel. Ratchet was keenly taking in their surroundings so he didn’t have to look or even think about Megatron, for now.

The citadel certainly lived up to its name. All the surrounding architecture looked to be made out of amber, gold, and yellow quartz colored glass. It all looked thin and highly breakable, spun into spindly arches decked with ornate balustrades. On closer inspection though it must have had incredible tensile strength. He was going to have to ask them how they made it as he could see several applications, including as artificial limb casts and support during self repair. Their host led them over a long bridge to what appeared to be a spun glass orb on top of a spiraling staircase.

They gestured expectantly at the door. “Honored Cybertronian bonded pair, here are your vaunted quarters. I will return at sun-stall the next cycle to bring you to meet the Omurian bonded pair. If there is anything you desire simply ring this bell and someone will be by momentarily to aid you. We have gone to great trouble to try and make these rooms to your specifications, please enjoy.”

With that they gave a low bow and opened the double doors to the quarters. Megatron bowed back at the waist carefully, not as deep as Parasillia had. Belatedly Ratchet did the same bow in a more hurried motion as he shifted to get into the quarters.

He felt rather than heard Megatron slip in and close the door behind him. He rounded on him to yell but was cut off by Megatron raising a large black hand to Ratchet’s mouth before shaking his head sternly. He flinched back as if he had been slapped and watched as Megatron activated a scanner on his wrist. Blue light methodically criss crossed all the walls, he checked the read out before nodding.

“You never know who’s listening in. These rooms aren’t bugged but that doesn’t mean that they’re sound proof. I suggest keeping it down so that a passerby outside doesn’t get the wrong idea.”

Ratchet sputtered at him. How the scrap was he being so reasonable about this? He watched, his frustration building as Megatron went around the rooms, inspecting them before sitting down heavily on the berth.

Of course there was only one, even if it was quite big. Perfect, just great.

There was no way he was about to recharge on the floor and when he opened his mouth to say so Megatron looked at him and quirked a corner of his lip up. “That was very Decepticon of you out there medic. I’m almost impressed.”

Ratchet snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. What the frag?

Academically he knew Megatron could be charming.

Before he was an imperialist warlord he had been an inspiring rebellion orator, insurgent writer, and poet. But he’d never personally seen the appeal really. Before the Decepticons decided they liked genocide Ratchet had thought about supporting them, he was a medic, he knew first hand the evils of Functionism. But as soon as the Decepticons proved just as bad as the Functionists when it came to murdering innocents he had lost all sympathy for them.

And here was the aft who lead them to do all that murdering slag in the first place being, what, being cordial to him? It was as insulting as it was strange.

Ratchet knew he shouldn’t think that way but he hadn’t wanted to see Megatron as a person. It was easier to hate him as simply an opposing force, almost like a black hole pulling in planets, instead of just a mech like him or any other.

Ratchet changed the subject in an instant. “Alright what’s the fragging plan? Knowing you, you’ve already got several, the ones involving mass murder and galatic chaos are non-starters. What’s left? Even if we do succeed in convincing the Omurians to ally with us they think they’re allying with **_both_ ** our factions. How do we even divide that kind of agreement to begin with?”

Megatron was looking at him curiously again and it made him deeply uneasy. He didn’t want his interest. A traitorous part of his processor smugly said he could use his interest if he wanted to twist this situation in his favor. He didn’t want to.

He thought he was being sent here in his capacity as a doctor not a representative of his entire race. Ratchet knew that if he botched this mission somehow Optimus would forgive him, Prowl wouldn’t, but he could live with that. The problem though was if he failed countless other people wouldn’t live long enough to hate him for failing. The Black Box Consortia was not in the vicinity of anywhere fragging around when it came to killing mechanicals. Primus, look at what happened on Prion.

So as much as he hated it, he was going to have to scheme and plot, and probably slagging collaborate with Megatron. Because as creative as he was when it came to medical matters and problem solving he wasn’t a diplomat.

Megatron at least had some experience being a representative of his faction in similar situations to this. Well maybe not exactly like this.

Megatron looked at him assessingly from his seat on the overly large berth. “I have been toying with a couple different options, though some of them are unnecessary now that it seems you are _very_ willing to work with me.”

Ratchet tutted and rolled his optics as Megatron ignored him and continued. “The easiest course of action, the plan of least resistance if you will, would be to continue to pretend to be bonded and work together to negotiate an alliance with the Omurians. Then upon the cementing of the alliance we move into negotiations between both our factions for use of resources and access to technology.”

Ratchet raised an optic ridge at that. “Mr. I-Will-Never-Negoiate-With-Autobots wants me to believe he’d sit down with Optimus Prime and hammer out an agreeable accord for **both** factions? Color me skeptical and unconvinced.”

Megatron ex-vented and leaned back on his hands as he studied Ratchet. “If it was just Optimus and I alone, hammering _something_ out I don’t doubt that we would come to a solution...satisfying to both parties.”

Ratchet made a disgusted noise and looked away from him before biting out. “Oh I’m sure you would try. That you’d enjoy the challenge, but both of us know he wouldn’t give you an inch. He’s not so easily swayed. Your scheming and charm don’t work well on someone like Optimus and it frustrates you.”

Megatron’s optics flashed dangerously though he made no move towards Ratchet. The mood seemed to pass through him and be replaced with that thoughtful expression again.

He squinted at Ratchet appraisingly. “Yes, well you would know first hand all about that wouldn’t you medic? Optimus isn’t susceptible to your ‘charms’ either is he? Though, in this situation, it doesn’t matter at all what he thinks of me, or you for that matter. What I’m curious to know is if **_you’re_ ** susceptible to my ‘scheming and charm’?”

Ratchet huffed, his plating ruffling up and lifting up away from his back and shoulders.

That son of a glitch.

Of course Megatron wanted to seduce Optimus to his various purposes, who didn’t? But he didn’t have to bring his own failed crush on the Prime into this. Or try and suss out the fact that Ratchet might be slightly more swayable by Megatron than Optimus was because he’s pragmatic where Optimus is idealistic.

It was part of the reason why, although they always got along, Ratchet was one of the only people willing to publicly and loudly disagree with the Prime. It would make sense for Megatron to know this but slaggit he didn’t want it being used against him at the moment.

Ratchet crossed his arms and looked pointedly at the wall over Megatron’s head. “More than Optimus is, and damn well more than I would like to be. Can we drop it for now? I’m too tired for this scrap.”

Megatron actually looked shocked at his answer as Ratchet blustered around the foot of the berth to the opposite end of the room. He lowered himself onto the very edge of the berth as far as he could possibly get from Megatron.

Ratchet felt the berth dip slightly as Megatron laid down on his back on the other side. He ex-vented silently and offlined his own optics. There was no way he was falling asleep easily next to Megatron of all bots, though he tried to keep his field as neutral as possible so as to not anger the other mech needlessly.

Ratchet almost jumped as Megatron’s low voice pierced the blackness of his offlined optics. “We’ll see what their terms are tomorrow and discuss over internal comms whether or not we can concede to them. I’d say it’s premature to call this a truce. But perhaps a momentary ceasefire between us, at least for the duration of this mission.”

He grumbled an affirmative noise before ignoring him again. Megatron was too slick by far.

He must have fallen into recharge at some point because they were both awoken by a pounding on the suite door. Ratchet’s battle protocols surged to life and he rolled off the berth and to his feet in a surprisingly fluid motion, his scalpel blade extending over his entire hand. Megatron had similarly stood and assumed a defensive stance with his fusion cannon humming to life.

Both of them looked at each other darkly before relaxing enough to put away their weapons and walk towards the door. Megatron beat him there and opened it to reveal Pasarillia standing with several smaller Omurians.

They gestured excitedly between both of them as they spoke. “Good dayrise! I hope you both recharged well. We shall be proceeding to meet our illustrious ruler/mates now, fuel will be provided for you of course. Thank you, follow me!”

They followed them out across several more high bridges before coming to the large, gold and oval, almost egglike, building in the center of the city. They entered into a great hall with a dias at one end, on top of it was a long table two high backed chairs on either side.

Seated already were who he assumed were the Omurian rulers. Pasarillia did a complicated looking series of gestures with their translucent wings and four arms before bowing.

They then gestured for Ratchet and Megatron to join their rulers while introducing them. “I am honored to introduce blessed Paragax and Risla, the ruler/mates of Omuria-VI. You majesties I am further pleased to present to you Megatron and Ratchet, the vaunted bonded/rulers of Cybertron.”

Ratchet tried not to flinch at that, instead he glared at Megatron who appeared to be perfectly at ease next to him. The Omurian ruling couple rose, both of them were a bright cobalt blue, one had emerald green wings and the other saphire blue ones. They greeted both of them with a small inclination of their heads and a rapid flurry of wingspeak he couldn’t understand.

He had a sinking suspicion Megatron could though, as he had secured Vos’s entire air force in the beginning of his campaign. He was already on edge, feeling way out of his depth, and he wasn’t about to ask Megatron what they had just said so that the fragger could lord it over him.

Megatron slightly bowed and Ratchet followed his lead and bent a little towards the Omurians. Then Megatron pulled his chair out for him and motioned for him to sit invitingly. Ratchet wanted to take the chair from his grasp and shove it away and sit down sullenly. That was just childish though so he instead sat down smoothly, trying to school his face into silent calm. He definitely didn’t start when Megatron effortlessly pushed him in his seat back up to the table. Ratchet saw him smiling out of the corner of him optics and silently cursed him.

The Omurian leaders wanted to get down to negotiations immediately and Ratchet was slightly impressed with their frankness. Translation errors aside they seemed practical. He was able to follow along with their conditions and laws. Megatron seemed to be doing the same as he didn’t ask too many questions. They talked several times over internal as they scrolled the datapads presented to them with various trade routes and conversion prices.

They were all discussing the mining rights for energon on one of their satellite moons when Ratchet felt Megatron’s hand on his knee.

He went perfectly still and screeched onto their internal comms.

_RT: KEEP YOUR DAMN HANDS TO YOURSELF MEGATRON._

He felt his field bump up against his own tight, rage filled one, playfully.

**MG: I know the trade route negotiations were fascinating but if you’d been paying attention to their body language you would have noticed they’re saying certain things. Go ahead, look at the one with emerald wings, Risla, right where their wings meet their lower back.**

Ratchet looked where he said to involuntarily, trying not to think of how warm that hand was laying on his knee. There was a segmented arm wrapped around their waist, rubbing gentle concentric circles that occasionally ghosted up to the base of their wings making Risla shiver slightly. That segmented arm belonged to their partner Paragax, they were touching them affectionately. He knew now that if he looked there would be other points of contact between the two of them.

Primus they were practically petting each other, why hadn’t he noticed that? His field snapped loudly with confusion and Megatron’s swelled with amusement.

**MG: They’ve been using wingspeak and various hand languages this entire time. I’ve caught most of it and they know I can understand it. While they’re rather businesslike verbally they’ve been hm, crude with their nonverbal questioning. They’ve been inquiring after our interfacing habits, if we have sparklings, if we want them, why we aren’t touching more. I’ve put them off some of those questions by intimating that you’re shy in public but it would be wise to try at least a little visible affection. They seem to think our negotiating will only be honest if we’re as open with our bodyspeak as they are.**

Ratchet bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it dribble energon just so he wouldn’t make a disgusted face. Megatron was enjoying this, he could feel it in his cursed field.

His field lashed out, prickly and harsh, and Megatron’s field just swelled with more humor and pushed up against his lightly. Ratchet leaned slowly to the side, begrudgingly resting his shoulder against Megatron’s side. The annoying slagger effortlessly removed his hand on his knee, wrapped his arm over his shoulders and down his back around his to grip his hip. Holding him in place securely and also taking the pressure off of Ratchet’s lower back strut. He wouldn’t find any part of his back aching any time soon because of that. Why?

Why would he try and make it more comfortable for him when he could have made it hurt and Ratchet wouldn’t have been able to fully move away from him? It didn’t make any sense. His field bubbled with confusion and anger still but Megatron’s simply brushed over it like a soft pet and Ratchet found his slightly relaxing.

He tried to focus on the Omurian’s body language more as well was what they were saying. He still didn’t understand the movements but he was watching when they moved on certain words now.

The position they were in was so comfortable he hadn’t realized his hand was laying against Megatron’s upper thigh and he hand been tapping his fingers against it absently. They stopped abruptly and he started to move hand his away when Megatron’s voice came on amused through internal comms.

**MG: If I didn’t like it I would have told you to stop, doctor.**

Ratchet wanted to yell at him. It was a perfectly natural reaction to Megatron in general but he wanted to yell at him for a very specific reason now. Then that mean voice in the back of his processor was back taunting him, telling him that he was so desperately touch starved he was enjoying touching _Megatron_ of all people. The problem was that voice was right.

He wasn’t hating this position nearly as much as he should have been. Maybe he could make that voice shut up by doing something he knew was antagonistic. His traitorous processor had what it thought was a very fun idea on how to antagonize Megatron. Would it even be revenge if they both enjoyed it though? Frag.

Ratchet’s fingers started to move again but this time he lightly trailed them up to the space full of cables where his hip met his array panel. He felt one of the vents in Megatron’s side hiss hot air and Ratchet smiled a little.

_RT: Oh? I wonder though, would you tell me to stop if I did something you did like too? Especially if it was something you liked a little too much._

Megatron’s field was a little confused, he couldn’t hide it while they were pressed this close together. The confusion evaporated immediately when Ratchet moved his fingers into the wires and started to stroke some of his fuel lines hidden there, wrapping his fingers along his sensory cables and tugging. His engine turned over, it didn’t make an audible sound though Ratchet felt it through where he was pressed up against his chest. Good. Let him be uncomfortable for once.

Ratchet’s fingers expertly sunk in deeper into the joint and he found the rolling ball bearing of the joint itself and touched it, gently stroking it. His engine made a soft purr at that and Ratchet pressed down harder, his fingers pinching lines and fondling the deep ball joint.

He casually spoke to him in internal comms, his voice even.

_RT: You know in medical school we all liked to experiment with the limits of Cybertronian anatomy, take the learning a bit farther than our datapads and holovids. One of the first things we discovered was that there is an energon line that runs through the inner thigh that if punctured will cause someone to bleed out in a matter of minutes. Because of the importance of this vital line though, all the cables around it are hypersensitive and we found that if you tug them just right they’ll make a spike pressurize instantly. I learned some interesting things in medical school and a great many more serving as the Autobot CMO._

Megatron’s vents hissed more hot air and he stiffened against him but he still didn’t tell him to stop. Really? How far was this game going to go?

There was a cluster of cables that did what he was talking about but Ratchet wasn’t fingering them at the moment, he hadn’t intended to actually. Now he wanted to though.

No matter how handsy the Omurians were being he suspected they wouldn’t appreciate him jerking off Megatron under the table. Frag, why did he want to do it more because of that? Frelling hell this was not good.

He withdrew his fingers in a jerk and took his hand back and felt Megatron’s other hand close around his wrist. His voice sounded a little ragged in the internal comms.

**MG: Ratchet, why did you stop?**

It was by sheer force of will alone that he didn’t turn to gawk at him openly. That was the first time Megatron had said his name.

Also he wanted him to keep going. That was. Oh. This whole situation was an unholy clusterfrag. He tried not to sound as flustered as he felt in the comms channel.

_RT: I’m not giving you a handjob under the table! We’re trying to convince them to trust us, not kick us off the damn planet for public indecency._

Megatron’s reply was suspiciously quick.

**MG: You’re a skilled medic, I’m sure you could figure out a way to do it without anyone noticing. I have enough self control not to make a sound. Also in case you haven’t noticed they have been doing much the same under the table. That sickly sweet smell wasn’t here when we sat down. It wouldn’t be frowned upon in this situation, it might even be beneficial to us.**

Ratchet snorted into internal comms instead of out loud. Now that he knew Megatron _wanted_ him to touch him under the table, like two younglings pretending to study in the Iaconian archives, he certainly wasn’t going to.

_RT: You may be an exhibitionist but I’m not and we really don’t have to do that to impress them. I think they’re plenty happy with what we’ve shown them already. Also we’re not the supreme rulers of this planet who’ve been sparkbonded for who knows how many eons so we can’t just frag in public like they can._

Megatron didn’t respond but he could feel the frustration and need in his field. Which was a little gratifying. He let his field become heavy and smug around them both. Before Megatron could devise a way to get back at him the Omurians rose and gestured at them excitedly.

Risla spoke then, their wings fluttering in excitement. “We have passed much time seated at the deliberating table for this solar cycle. We can tell you are eager to return to each other’s embrace in your vaunted quarters. This pleases us as we wish to do the same. When our alliance is fully sealed we shall celebrate in the alum springs! We believe they will be as restorative to you as they are for us.”

With that they motioned for Megatron and Ratchet to stand and they did, speedily disentangling themselves from each other. Both of the rulers bowed and then motioned Pasarillia to come forward from the dark columns on the edge of the hall to escort them back to their quarters.

This time Ratchet paid more attention to the route they took back in case they needed to make a hasty escape later for any reason. Certainly not because he wanted to be looking anywhere besides at Megatron after what they just did in front of the Omurians who must have been watching in the shadows of the grand hall.

Once they were back at their quarters Ratchet rolled his optics at Megatron checking for new bugs or booby traps before making his way quickly to the room with wash racks.

A lukewarm solvent shower would be just the thing after all of...that. Ratchet forgot to lock the keypad down though and Megatron came in a few minutes later and started to rinse off next to him. They weren’t touching, he was about an arm length away, but their fields definitely were. He did not like how warm and full his field felt brushing up against his, he did not.

That was not a nice feeling he was enjoying in the shower. Frag. Ratchet was in serious danger.

The danger being that he might end up clanging Megatron.

That was not a good solution to this particular problem.

He was trying hard not to admit that he would enjoy it too. No. He pulled his field in close under his plating and moved to the infrared dryer before hurrying out to the massive berth that took up half the large circular room. He laid down on his side facing the wall and stared at it balefully.

Ratchet tensed as he heard Megatron shuffling around the room before finally feeling him lay down on the other side of the berth. For a while it was silent and Ratchet hoped he would let it stay that way, but of course Megatron wasn’t going to do what he wanted.

He heard him ex-vent and then the berth shifted as he turned to him on his side and spoke. “You know I would let you-”

Ratchet cut him off with a growl. “What?! Let me continue what I foolishly started earlier? Let me frag you into the berth so hard we break it and then keep going? What the frell do you want from me Megatron, what’s your slagging _angle_?”

Megatron chuckled. “Both of those sound good to me actually, as for my angle I quite enjoy getting my knees up over a mech’s shoulders.”

Ratchet scoffed angrily and grumbled. “That’s not what I meant and you slagging know it you smart aft.”

Megatron chuckled again. “My angle, dear medic, is that I’d like to interface with you as these negotiations are proving relatively tame and slightly boring. Several times in several different positions actually, as it seems I’ve found someone far more interesting to occupy my time with than the Omurian rulers.”

Now it was Ratchet’s turn to bark out a laugh before responding in monotone. “Exaggerated flattery will get you absolutely nowhere Megatron, I’m not Starscream for Primus’s sake.”

Megatron sounded exasperated. “Well thank frag for that at least.”

He shouldn’t have, that didn’t stop Ratchet from laughing, genuinely this time. After that they fell into companionable silence and Ratchet made the mistake of offlining his optics.

As soon as he did though Megatron’s voice came from startlingly close to his audial. “My offer still stands. You may take me up on it, or not, any time during the rest of our stay here.”

Ratchet swung around to hit him, except he had already moved back to his side of the berth and he just swatted empty air. It was supremely unsatisfying. He was gonna have to get used to that if he was going to spend the rest of this mission resolutely not fragging Megatron.

Fragging Megatron.

 

* * *

 

The next few solar cycles passed much the same with negotiations at the table going quickly and smoothly as long Ratchet and Megatron were cuddled together in front of the Omurians.

Megatron tried to prod him into taking it further than an embrace several times but each time Ratchet rebuffed him. He only regretted doing it a little. Overall he was pleased with how easy the Omurians were making it for them because the faster they went the faster he could get away from Megatron.

At the end of the week all four of them very seriously signed and sealed their alliance and Ratchet breathed an audible sigh of relief. He’d made it through. Well, this step anyway, as they would have to be negotiating inter-factionally after this but hopefully he wouldn’t be a part of it. He was a medic not a strategist or diplomat.

He had forgotten all about the Omurian’s promise of visiting the alum springs until they herded him and Megatron out of the grand hall in the opposite direction of their quarters. The hot springs were made out of clear rock crystals and deep pools full of steaming semi-transparent silvery liquid. The Omurian leaders gestured to one of the biggest pools in the middle of the hot springs invitingly and then walked off to a separate spring together, their two sets of arms draped over each other’s shoulders and waists.

Ratchet approached it carefully, doing some quick scans with his HUD which informed him the pools were not toxic to Cybertronians and that the temperatures were within acceptable levels for his plating. He moved up to the edge of the pool and leaned back on one leg, delicately dipping the tip of his other foot down into the liquid.

It was surprisingly warm and it felt silky against his plating. Ratchet made a surprised grunt of appreciation before stepping into the pool up to his waist. There was a ledge running along the edge of the pool and when he sat down on it the liquid came up to just under his chin. It felt incredible.

Every ache, every joint twinge, every twisted cable in his frame relaxed and he let his head fall back against the lip of the pool with a soft clank. He flicked his optics up in time to see Megatron gazing down at him in amusement before the large gray bot got into the pool with him. Ratchet grumbled as the mercurial liquid came up to splash him in the cheek once Megatron sat down in the pool. The liquid only came up to his shoulders although Ratchet noticed him relax into the warmth of it as well.

He decided to ignore him and offline his optics and just bask in the feel of being semi-weightless and warm in the pool. He almost jumped enough to cause the water to splash when he felt Megatron’s hand on his arm under the gently bubbling liquid. He tried not to glare at him as he sent an internal comm.

 _RT: What in the pit do you want now? We’ve signed the alliance, isn’t our little_ performance _over and done with?_

**MG: While that most certainly is the case in regards to the alliance I believe you are mistaken as to the “performance” aspect of this mission. If you’ll focus your optics to the left on our dear Omurian hosts it will become clear as to what I’m referring to.**

Ratchet didn’t want to look but he did anyway and he immediately regretted it. Yeah they were both definitely interfacing with each other with abandon in the alum pool at the far end of the springs. Since they definitely weren’t paying attention to them at the moment he dared a scowl at Megatron next to him.

 _RT: I am not fragging you in this pool no matter how good it feels. The pool I mean. We’re not interfacing in public to “keep up appearances” Megatron._  

Slag, he did not sound convincing, not even to his own traitorous thoughts. Megatron quirked a brow ridge at him and smiled slightly.

 **MG: Very well. How about we do something else to show them we are having a nice time and appreciate their hospitality instead? I do not want to upset them when we are so close to pulling this off without a hitch.**  

Ratchet’s field flickered with uncertainty where Megatron’s was still open and warm, like the liquid lapping up to his neck.

_RT: I know I’m going to regret this but what did you have in mind?_

Megatron smiled at him widely and shifted over to the edge of the pool, there was a cut out in the rock he hadn’t noticed before and Megatron slid it to the side revealing a compartment filled with what looked like various pieces of different colored stone. He took out several pieces and subspaced one of them before turning back to him.

**MG: Stand and give me your back and I’ll show you.**

There was no threat in those words, no promise behind them either, they were friendly and relatively calm. So against his better judgement he did stand, the warm liquid leaving silvery streaks down his red and white shoulders as he offered his back gingerly to Megatron.

The taller bot came closer and then very carefully started to move one of the stones over the space between his pauldrons and the tires on his back. It was surprisingly soft and it started to flake off and foam against him. It was solvent! The other stone was a pumice rock for polishing then. Megatron was washing his back.

That was...not what he had been expecting alright. He was right though, this was intimate just in a different way than what the Omurians were doing. He tried not to stiffen as Megatron moved the solvent stone down over his back struts and across his hips that were barely above the pool. What if he just let himself enjoy this a little?

The warmth and liquid embrace of the pool was swirling around every bit of him below his hips and Megatron was gently scrubbing his back and shoulders. The overall sensation felt wonderful.

If only he could forget who was behind him and think of another large bot being gentle and tender with him instead. He slapped that thought down hard, he was NOT going to pretend Megatron was Optimus.

He wouldn’t do that to Optimus but also it was undeniably Megatron’s hands deftly massaging solvent into his shoulder joints, loosening up his back struts, at the moment.

Ratchet gave in, at least a little and relaxed. Those large skilled hands swept down over his back, always respectfully stopping just above the waterline at his hips, never dipping below. He didn’t like that he wanted them to either.

His engine purred as Megatron squeezed his tires and got in behind their wheel wells to clean there was well. He relaxed even further into the touch and swayed a little on his feet. Megatron’s arm immediately came up and wrapped around his waist, he held him up against his chest and continued to soap up his shoulders like Ratchet didn’t weigh anything at all.

Which was an impressive feat because although he was a medium sized bot he was a medic so he was dense. Heavy with mechanisms and cabling he needed to haul bots three or four times his size out of harm's way in the middle of a battle zone. And Megatron was supporting his full weight against him, effortlessly, and slag if that wasn’t hot. Ratchet had to admit it was really hot. Damn.

Megatron maneuvered them closer to the lip so he could go get something else out of the compartment without letting go of Ratchet and when he leaned back in he had a small crystalline bowl. He filled it with the warm silvery liquid of the pool and carefully poured it over Ratchet’s back. It made him shiver as the warmth of it ran down his now cooler plating.

His field was a pleasant hum and Megatron’s was still just as warm and inviting as earlier so he sagged against him, letting him take all his weight as he was practically being pampered. The warm splash of liquid running down him and the gentle swish of the polishing stone being used on him had him melting further against Megatron who was hot and solid wall behind him.

He wasn’t sure when he offlined his optics to bask in all the sensations, Megatron’s hands on him, carefully massing all of his back plating and wheels, the warm liquid sluicing down his body, the gentle comforting pulse of his field wrapped around him like a particularly affectionate cybercat. The overall effect was like scrubbing away several million years worth of tension and frame wide grime. He hadn’t felt this good since before the war. And it was Megatron doing this for him.

Ratchet spark skipped in his chest and he onlinned his optics so fast they clicked. He looked over his shoulder up at Megatron who was staring down at him fondly. Fondly!!! On Megatron’s face, he shouldn’t have been able to make that expression. Certainly not at a plain looking enemy medic. Yet here they were. Ratchet wanted to reach up with limp hands and bring him down for a kiss.

He didn’t get the chance to because the Omurian rulers walked over to them, their large bug eyes knowing.

Paragax gestured happily between the two of them. “I see yours is a culture that values intimacy before making love, it is truly a joyous thing to see in mechanisms so large and fierce looking.”

Ratchet felt his face plates heat up magenta with energon as Megatron laughed lightly and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head before addressing Paragax. “Yes, I wanted to show him exactly how much I cherish him before we returned to our quarters for a nice evening in.”

Paragax practically beamed at Megatron. “I knew there was a reason the planning and laying of our alliance was so easy. Despite being mechanical you value the same things we do. I wish you both a joyous evening, may it be as bright as every night is when you have each other.”

With that both of them left in a flurry of blue legs and brightly colored wings and Ratchet reluctantly pulled against Megatron’s hold.

 _RT: We should go as there’s no one else left to put on a show for._  

Megatron ex-vented in a huff.

 **MG: Whether you want to believe it or not I meant what I said. I wasn’t trying to just put on a show for them but also demonstrate my appreciation for how cooperative you’ve been this week.**    

Ratchet snorted out loud.

 _RT: Mhmm and it had nothing to do with you wanting to get under my panels then?_  

Megatron’s face was a picture of innocence though Ratchet knew better.

**MG: Not entirely, although my offer from earlier still, most definitely, stands. I suppose since my actions are not speaking louder than my words to you I’ll just say it. Thank you Ratchet.**

And again Megatron had thrown him into an off-balance barrel roll. He hadn’t expected a thank you. Ratchet wasn’t expecting him to still be amiable now that they’d sealed the deal, the alliance anyway. Yet he was and it was baffling.

To hide the confusion in his field Ratchet grunted in acknowledgement and regrettably exited the pool. They made their way across the glowing honey colored bridge walkways that connected the spires in companionable silence. Ratchet kept looking and him and then darting his eyes back to the bright star filled sky above them.

He was nervous for no reason, just restless all of a sudden, and the views, both of them were distracting him from the feeling. When they got back to their shared quarters Ratchet made his way to the berth and laid down on his back, stretching out more than he had allowed himself to all week. Despite the light churning in his tanks he felt the most relaxed he had in eons. Megatron laid down next to him, their stretched out hands almost touching.

When he spoke Ratchet turned his head to look at him. “You know at the beginning of this my ultimate plan was to seduce you and then use you as a way to get to Optimus. To then get the proper amount of leverage to mostly take this alliance out from under your Autobot’s noses.”

Ratchet barked a laugh and he was smiling ruefully when he responded. “Not much of a master plan that, especially since you just told me all about it.”

Megatron glanced quickly down to where their hands were almost touching, licked his lips, then went back to looking at Ratchet’s optics. “As I spent more time with you I realized it wouldn’t work to manipulate you that way. Also that you had less sway with Optimus than I originally thought. It’s almost comical that we both tried to court him and failed. So I find myself asking you for advice. How should we make this alliance work for both factions?”

Ratchet was stunned into silence again. Slag him for being so...so reasonable. He gave it some thought, weighing whether he should try and lie or not, and eventually decided to be honest. As it seemed that for once Megatron was being honest with him. For the moment anyway, he wasn’t gonna get his hopes up for this side of him lasting long term.

Ratchet ex-vented heavily. “We split the mining rights quotas, the weapons research doesn’t go to either side we decline it, any scientific or medical inventions that do not have weapons applications we split as well. Trading routes will be harder but I know you’ll definitely want the ones around Antillan space so if I was a good haggler I’d make you work for that but I won’t, you can have them. We get the ones around Oster. All the others we’ll have to go through point by point and divide them as easily as possible. Everything else, the diplomatic goodwill etc we can just both come back here and use it together again I guess.”

Megatron hummed thoughtfully and then changed the topic so fast it was almost physically jarring. “I used to want to be a medic you know.”

Ratchet rolled his optics and looked away from Megatron’s face at the ceiling. “Ah, back when you were a young idealistic poet?”

Megatron’s tone was low and grave. “No. Before that. Back when I used to work in the mines. I saw...a great many of my brothers crushed and mangled by mining equipment, cave ins, and the chemical burns from drilling raw stellium. I wanted more than anything to be able to patch them up properly as most of us were denied all medical care even when it was life threatening. No one cared about one more dead disposable.”

Slag. He knew Megatron had been a miner but not a stellium miner. He had thought energon, as at least those miners were paid, albeit not enough, but they had lives. Stellium miners lived several miles deep below the surface of Cybertron’s moons and most never saw the light of the stars above them. They were considered disposable, the lowest of the low, not even sentient in the Great Cybertronian Taxonomy created by the Functionists.

No wonder Megatron had revolted. Ratchet wanted to ask how he even got out. Stellium miners had no rights under the law as they were considered property of the mine, he had been a glorified slave for pit’s sake. What do you even say to someone who went through that? He tried to gather his thoughts but he felt like his processor was unwinding.

Ratchet reached out the extra distance and laced their fingers together. “You know there’s still time...if you want to become a medic I mean. You and Optimus could call a ceasefire and then work on a truce. You could stop the war. You don’t have to be like this anymore if you don’t want to be.”

Megatron squeezed his hand hard as he spoke through clenched denta. “You make it sound so easy. It’s never easy, the people in control rarely make it that way, so in reality you have to die in droves to take power from them. It’s why I sought to be the most powerful force in the universe, so that no one could ever take anything like that from me again. So far it’s mostly working and making myself...vulnerable instead has always ended badly for me and everyone I care about so why even try?”

Ratchet understood a part of that. He wasn’t a genocidal warlord because of it but he too had shut people out to protect himself. Walled himself off behind an impenetrable pile of never ending work and all the other Autobots had let him. Only Optimus seemed to truly worry about him and he worried about everyone so that didn’t really count. Which is what he told himself everytime those blue optics turned to him with concern and his spark clenched painfully in his chest.

Ratchet pulled his eyes from the ceiling to look at Megatron again closely. “You wouldn’t have to do it all alone, you know. I’d be willing to help. I mean it. Ending the war, pit if we can manage it, I’d do just about anything.”

Megatron’s crimson optics darkened and then blazed to life so hard they hummed aloud. “You know you’re basically agreeing to my plan from earlier. Just adding the momentous caveat that instead of just the Omurian alliance we would also negotiate an inter-factional armistice and officially end the war. That’s what you’re actually proposing you know.”

Ratchet knew. He knew and he was deadly serious about it. He squeezed Megatron’s hand back harder. “I mean it. I’d be willing to help. Whatever it takes.”

Megatron laughed and it was almost panicked. “That’s an inadvisably open offer you’re handing me dear doctor. There’s so much room for me to twist those words of yours. What makes you think I won’t? Why would you even attempt to put any trust in me after all of it, everything that I’ve done that I don’t particularly regret at this point?”

He wasn’t sure, all his past experiences besides this week were telling him he shouldn’t, that Megatron was right and he would trample all over Ratchet to get what he wanted, more power.

Then lightning struck his processor. What if Megatron wanted the same things he did? As long as he made sure their values aligned he could stop himself from being trampled and also make a difference. Primus, he had just volunteered to be the cross faction mediator. A peace wrangler, ugh.

Ratchet groaned. “Because the other option is another 4 million years of stalemate locked in an endless war. Besides, when both sides don’t trust each other one of them has to take a leap of faith to bridge the gap. Consider this me jumping off a bridge.”

This time Megatron’s laugh was warm and genuine. “Oh you Autobot’s and your grand gestures of selfless nobility. I’ll consider it. I make no guarantees though, beyond our mutually negotiating the Omurian alliance that is...for now.”

That was the best he could have hoped for at this point honestly. He tried not to feel too triumphant as one wrong breath and this house of rust sticks would come tumbling down.

What was now between them was fragile, barely there, and literally holding on by the sole grip of one his hands in Megatron’s. It made his spark ache longingly.

Megatron pulled their joined hands to his lips and kissed Ratchet’s red knuckles lightly. “You know, I’ve been trying not to but I can’t stop thinking about that extremely sensitive cluster of inner thigh cables you mentioned earlier in the week. Would you be willing to show me where they are...on you?”

Ratchet’s vent’s hitched and Megatron leaned forward and whispered in his audial. “If it helps I won’t be mad if you let me do all the work, just lay back and think of Optimus.”

Ratchet swatted at him with his free hand and Megatron dodged it easily with a chuckle before Ratchet grabbed him by the collar platting and pulled him closer. Practically dragging him across the berth.

Megatron’s optics widened at the act of hidden strength and Ratchet’s grin was all teeth as he spoke. “We can both think of him when we self service and leave it at that. No Megatron, if I’m going to interface with you then I’m _only_ going to be thinking of you while we do it.”

His engine growled and the one word he said before kissing Ratchet hard was “Good.”

He let his field flare out with heavy desire as Megatron leaned over him, kissing him into the berth. He didn’t just ‘let him do all the work’ though as Ratchet was biting and sucking at his lips, hands reaching up under his chest plating, digging into his transformation seams.

He let all his higher processing recede as he revelled in the warmth and feel of the bigger bot over him. Holding his pinned hand above his head on the berth, arching up towards him to feel their chests brush against each other. He felt his vents hiss open wider as his cooling fans clicked on loudly. Megatron moved and Ratchet looked up at him as he straddled his hips.

Still full of surprises huh. Not that Ratchet was complaining, he was amenable to however they ended up slotted together, running hot, and taking their pleasure from each other.

Megatron released his hand and started running it over the glass of Ratchet’s windshield and then slowly moving lower until he found the gaps in between his hips and array panel. He brushed his black fingers up into them lightly as they were too large to get deep into the cabling like Ratchet’s fingers had.

He seemed slightly disappointed about that as he murmured. “Hm. I suppose I’ll have to find another method to make your spike pressurize instantly.”

Ratchet smirked but in changed to a gasp as Megatron shifted down to kneel in between his legs and got his hands up under his aft lifting his hips up to his face. He started using that clever glossa of his, licking into all the faring and seams around his panel.

Ratchet groaned and wrapped his legs over Megatron’s shoulders, his left leg slotting in right next to his fusion cannon. That was...hotter than it had any right to be, damn. As much as he hated to admit it dangerous bots did get his engine going. And the living embodiment of bloody revolution and endless slagging war was trying to get into his interfacing equipment using only his fragging teeth.

His field was raw with need and Megatron grinned hungrily as the paneling transformed away beneath his glossa. Ratchet watched transfixed as leaned down and licked the base of his fully pressurized silver and red spike. Megatron’s optics flickered as he watched Ratchet’s face while he took his whole spike into his mouth.

It was hot and wet and he was humming around it and slag he wasn’t going to last like this. He wanted to, in fact he even knew a few tricks to stave off overload. Watching him work his spike in between his lips and down his intake was making it hard to resist spilling inside him though.

Ratchet had a feeling that if he held off he’d get to overload inside him anyway. That seemed to be what Megatron was after because he pulled off him with an obscene slurp and Ratchet watched a bead of oral lubricant stretch from his now wet spike to Megatron’s silver lips. It was a beautiful sight and he was consciously committing it to his long term memory banks.

Some of that sentiment must have bled into his field or shown on his face because Megatron huffed a laugh kissed the head of his spike sloppily before setting his hips back down on the berth. He crawled up Ratchet’s chassis and planted his elbows on either side of his head, chest to hips pushing down on him and kissed him again. He could taste his lubricant on his lips and that was a whole different level of intimate that he wasn’t expecting. His engine purred and his emergency siren let out a short high beep.

He smiled as he bit his lips once more and pulled up to meet his blue optics with smoldering red ones. “After you winding me up all week I want to ride you into the berth. Although I am _shockingly_ flexible so if you have something else in mind I can work with that.”

Ratchet grinned cheekily. “So fast to compromise when it comes to this stuff huh? Lucky you though, that sounds good to me. Go ahead, give me a good show.”

Megatron’s smile was wicked as he ground his hips down, catching Ratchet’s thick spike in between their plating and rubbing against it. He groaned as he felt the hot paneling click away to be replaced with the infinitely softer wet protomesh folds of Megatron’s valve.

The friction of him rutting against him took on a bit more urgency and he could only watch helplessly as Megatron reared up and then sank down onto his spike in one slow, fluid stroke. Both of their vents audibly hitched as the panel fairing on their hips met.

Of course he felt amazing, the fragger.

Megatron ground his hips in small circles and his engine hummed while Ratchet’s sputtered as he felt the walls of his valve ripple in pleasure around him. He tried to buck up into him but Megatron was squeezing him down with his thighs. He leaned back and started to lift up torturously slowly up his spike and then back down. Riding him almost leisurely and Ratchet bit his lip so hard he tasted energon as he tried to stave off his overload.

It wasn’t easy as he sunk into him and watched him touch his anterior node while undulating, his optics greedily watching Ratchet for his reactions. He was certainly putting on a show for him.

Ratchet belatedly remembered he had hands and took them from where they were clutching the berth covers for dear life and dug them into Megatron’s hips. His slow rhythm faltered as Ratchet grinned triumphantly and squeezed the right cables in both his hips. Megatron groaned as his spike pressurized, hot, long, and heavy on Ratchet’s stomach. He looked down at the big black spike in glee and Megatron stared down at him with wide-opticed admiration.

Frag, he couldn’t get his hand all the way around it but that wasn’t going to stop him from touching it. When he took it in hand Megatron’s valve clenched down on his spike hard and both their engines stuttered together. Then he started pumping him, fingers swirling into the lubricant that dripped in between the seams of his spike, faster than Megatron had been riding him. That seemed to spur him to action as he moved again, this time coming down harder and rising up in a more desperate motion.

_Yes!_

This is what he wanted, he wanted him to go harder, the show was wonderful but this was what he liked best.

Their fields tangled fiercely as they both got less coordinated and moved against each other suddenly racing towards their overloads. Ratchet peaked first and shouted Megatron’s name as he came into his valve in three hot spurts, his hand squeezing Megatron’s spike almost painfully.

Megatron slammed down twice, milking his spike for all it was worth as he overloaded as well. His black spike leaking several thick pulses onto Ratchet’s chest. Megatron practically bent in half as he moaned and then swooped down to kiss Ratchet fiercely, his spike trapped between them still leaking pink tinged transfluid.

Ratchet wrapped his arms around him and kissed him back, gasping into his mouth when he felt his valve clench around his now very sensitive spike. Megatron’s arms wobbled worryingly as he straightened back up and looked down at the mess he had made on Ratchet’s stomach with a satisfied smirk.

Their optics met, his field was playful and smug as he rumbled. “I so meticulously tried to get you clean earlier but it looks like I’ve ruined all my hard work. Would you like me to try again?”

The promise of round two was definitely in his voice. And although he wasn’t as young as he used to be he knew he would definitely be up for whatever Megatron wanted to do to him in the wash racks.

He nodded as graciously as he could as he looked up at him. “I’d be willing to give you a chance to make it up to me.”

They both smiled as Megatron pulled him to his feet and led him into the wash racks.

Round two was just as enjoyable as round one and while round three was exhausting, he got to experience that big black spike while pinned up against one of the white stone walls so he wasn’t complaining.

He felt warm and strutless again laying back on the berth, Megatron curled around him. Everything was quiet and almost perfect.

Recharge was about to take him when he felt Megatron murmur against the top of his head. “Do you love him?”

It took Ratchet a minute to figure out who he was talking about then it hit him bitterly. Orion. Or Optimus as they were one and the same. It was an old familiar pang in his spark. The one he could never quite soothe.

He rumbled back irritably. “Of course I love him. Who wouldn’t? That’s what he does, he makes us all love him, even you.”

Megatron’s ex-vented heavily against his chevron and Ratchet shivered a little. “There was a time when I thought I didn’t, that I couldn’t. But he always pulls me back towards him no matter how hard I fight. It almost seems inevitable at this point.”

Ratchet knew all too well what that felt like. His spark surged in sympathy. “There’s nothing to be done for it. I tried back at the beginning and he made it clear he belonged to the people. A Prime couldn’t hold any one bot over any other in his spark.”

Megatron’s field spiked with anger and suddenly he holding Ratchet tightly, his fingers digging into his shoulder pauldrons. “That’s slag and you know it! He’s capable of being selfish just like any of the rest of us. That thing in his chest doesn’t make him a god. He’s just afraid. He’s afraid of failing all his precious people, of not being able to save them. He fears the closeness you would offer him most of all because it would shatter him to lose you.”

Ratchet wasn’t so sure they were talking about Optimus anymore but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead he shifted to look up at Megatron whose red optics were burning in the now darkened lights of their quarters.

Ratchet gave in. “Even if you’re right I don’t know what either of us can do about it. He’s made up his mind and you know he’s just as stubborn as either of us.”

That seemed to break the wall of tension that had formed between them as Megatron huffed and loosened his painful hold on him. His face became thoughtful and that made Ratchet wary.

He simply mumbled. “Maybe we just need to try a different tact.”

Ratchet raised his brow ridges at that but didn’t say anything more as Megatron kissed the top of his head and offlined his optics. Ratchet really wasn’t looking forward to explaining exactly what had happened on this mission to Autobot High Command.

Slag, he was going to have to lie. Not about anything relating to the treaty but about this. He hated lying, he did know how to do it though. Plus no one in his entire faction would ever think he and Megatron would have gotten up to anything other than yelling and trying to verbally rip each other’s heads off. He almost snorted at that. Yeah it was going to be hard for him to forget what they did here but it wouldn’t be too difficult to lie to everyone else about it. They would do most of the work for him assuming things.

The next morning they barely spoke and it made him strangely sad. His spark was swirling off beat in his chest when they were both standing side by side on the landing pad, watching their two separate shuttles descend towards them through the atmosphere. Pasarillia had sent them both off on behalf of all the Omurians and now they were mostly alone waiting from their shuttles.

Megatron was staring at him as Ratchet watched his shuttle come in without turning to look back at him. The Decepticon transport landed first and the docking platform lowered in a jolting motion. Megatron hesitated before he made his way towards it. He turned around at the last second and smiled with too many teeth as Ratchet finally stared back at him.

**MG: You can have the alliance. Everything it entails will be yours to use, or not, as you please. I give up all rights to Omurian aid on behalf of the Decepticons. Consider it a gift from me to you.**

Ratchet almost sputtered out loud at him he was so shocked.

 _RT:_ **_WHAT?!_ ** _What are you trying to pull Megatron?! That’s not a gift. It’s a frelling pit trap!_

Megatron did laugh then aloud as he continued to grin. It took on a more salacious bent though.

**MG: No Ratchet it’s a gift. No tricks, no agenda, no trap. If you insist on being difficult about it then think of it as a courting gift. From me to you. With intention to pursue.**

Ratchet’s mouth fell open as Megatron winked at him and shut the door to his shuttle. That pit damned son of a glitch!

Ratchet tried to send him another comm to yell at him but it went directly to his mailbox. He hadn’t blocked Ratchet’s frequency he was just very obviously not answering. Frag him!

Ratchet’s own shuttle arrived and he stomped up the boarding ramp, face flushed magenta, processor a flustered mess. Ratchet hated being toyed with! Playing certain games of the spark frustrated him, he definitely felt like he was losing this one. Frelling hell.

 

* * *

 

 

All of Ratchet’s angry comms requests went directly to Megatron’s mailbox and he eventually stopped trying. After presenting the Omurian Alliance to the Autobots on a silver platter and going through a nerve wracking debrief with a very suspicious Prowl, no one base had bothered him much. He had spun them a tale about the Omurian’s being so grateful for his medical expertise compared to Hook’s hack job that they had decided to align themselves with the Autobots. He hadn’t even mentioned Megatron being there. It was the biggest lie he had ever told and everyone let him get away with it so easily he had started to hate himself. Especially since Megatron refused to answer his encrypted comms.

After his return there had been a few Decepticon raids on their supply lines and fortifications but it almost seemed like they were just doing it out of habit now. There had been record few injuries and no casualties. That was the first time he noticed it.

He was towards the back of the main formation, running triage on the only two injured bots, nothing too serious just plating burns. And out of nowhere Blast Off and Onslaught rushed past him on either side in vehicle mode intercepting some blazing red blaster fire that would have shot smelting holes in his battle field clinic and himself. They kept racing on past but he had definitely noticed them taking that fire for him.

The next time it happened was actually at their Deltaran base. It was Wheeljack’s fault this time. Ratchet was in one of the engineering labs working on a fuel clotting patch he had been toying with when all of a sudden he was tackled by a blur of black that dropped from the ceiling above him. The table he had been working at was flipped up just in time to block a massive concussive blast of fire. The entire front wall of the lab was gone and little smoldering bits of it were raining down around him as he looked up at Ravage who was perched nervously on his chest.

He fidgeted and then sniffed Ratchet once before nodding and then running off into the smoking other room. Ratchet just laid there on the floor, his brow furrowed deep in thought. He decided not to tell anyone about what he suspected was happening as no one else had seen Ravage on base during or after Wheeljack’s latest lab accident.

By the third time he had had enough.

He was on the battlefield, moving from cover to cover when he heard the unmistakable sound of a bomb whistling through the sky over head. He looked up to see it coming right towards him and then there was a burst of purple and he was being grabbed from behind.

He reset his optics and he was on the other side of the battlefield watching the bomb strike his previous position, a massive red mushroom cloud blooming from the area of now blasted flat rubble. Skywarp still had his arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders as Ratchet rounded on him, furious.

The seeker didn’t have time to warp away as Ratchet grabbed him by the collar faring and snarled. “Take me to Megatron. NOW.”

Skywarp flinched and tried to pull away but Ratchet’s grip was iron clad and unshakable as Skywarp fidgeted. “He’s on the other side of the mountains fighting Prime and I doubt he wants to be-”

Ratchet cut him off viciously while pulling a large wrench out of his subspace. “I don’t care what he wants! We need to talk, now! Take me to him or I’ll tweak your t-cog to transform your head directly into you aft.”

Skywarp grumbled something about being pretty sure that was impossible while Ratchet eyed him balefully. He reluctantly grabbed Ratchet’s shoulders again and in a blink of shimmering purple they were both suddenly watching Optimus and Megatron lock sword to axe on a rocky plane by themselves.

Ratchet’s voice boomed out across the barren landscape. “MEGATRON!”

He felt Skywarp blink out of existence behind him and almost rolled his optics. Coward.

Megatron’s head snapped around to look at him and Optimus took the opening to fling him back, dropping his axe lower and shoving Megatron hard. Ratchet sprang into action and charged over towards them, wrench still in hand.

Optimus called out to him as he swung at Megatron who had raised his sword again. “Ratchet! Stay back. What are you even doing here!?’

Ratchet waved the wrench at him dismissively before turning his full attention to Megatron. “Both of you disarm. We need to talk Megatron.”

This time it was Optimus who faltered and Megatron easily swept his axe to the side and kicked him in the chest, sending him stumbling back. As Optimus straightened to come at him again he sheathed his sword back into his arm and turned to Ratchet, his hand raised towards Optimus in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture.

Megatron seemed vaguely amused to be interrupted on the battlefield like this but Ratchet wasn’t having any of it. He put the wrench away and glared at him, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “Why haven’t you answered any of my comms you aft!? They go straight to your mailbox.”

Megatron rolled his optics. “Why haven’t you told Autobot High Command how you really ended up with the full alliance contract on Omuria-VI?”

Ratchet spat static at him and Optimus took the momentary lag to cut in. He literally tried to place himself between Megatron and Ratchet as he spoke. “I don’t know what’s going on but you will not threaten him while I’m here to stop you.”

Megatron raised a skeptical brow ridge, looking bored. “Really Prime? Did it seem like I was threatening him? He’s the one who raised his voice at me.”

Ratchet ducked around Optimus’s shoulder to point at Megatron again. “You deserve all the yelling, and a kick in the tailpipe too, after what you pulled!”

Megatron looked at Optimus’s confused face and then down at Ratchet smugly. “Alright Ratchet, what exactly did I ‘pull’?” He practically purred the next part. “Why don’t you explain for poor Prime here exactly why you’re so fragged off at me right now.”

Optimus actually looked away from Megatron and down at Ratchet, his brow ridges raised in silent confusion. Ratchet’s engine growled as he darted forward and shoved Megatron hard in the chest.

The warlord took a stumbling step back but made no move to retaliate. Ratchet could feel Optimus’s field spike with alarm behind him. He was glaring at Megatron though so he couldn’t see the absolutely poleaxed look on Optimus’s face when he spoke. “You give me that half aft’d bonding proposal and then expect me to what? Come find you? Because you certainly didn’t answer any of my attempts to talk with you, like a reasonable mech who was trying to court me would have.”

Megatron _could_ see Optimus’s face and he was making the most self-satisfied expression Ratchet had ever seen on anyone who wasn’t Starscream. Ratchet wasn’t done yelling at him though.

He shoved him back again and Megatron’s optics snapped back to him, slightly worried this time. “You talk about a ceasefire and then continue to attack and bomb our convoys and installations. All the while sending your soldiers to what? Rescue me when I might have been put in harm’s way by YOUR OWN ACTIONS!?”

Megatron tried to scoff but it ended in a slight grimace. “The explosion with Wheeljack definitely wasn’t caused by my actions.”

Ratchet ground out a huffed “Bah!” before shoving him once more, though this time Megatron grabbed both his wrists and pulled him close. Ratchet heard Optimus release his axe again from behind them as he glared up at Megatron.

Megatron’s optics were stormy as he looked down at him. “I was hoping you would get the hint and just tell the truth, something you Autobot’s usually don’t have any trouble doing. You’ll notice that there have been no casualties on either side since you returned from Omuria-VI, and minimal injuries. Pit, even the damage to your supply lines was superficial. We haven’t been trying to hurt you. I really haven’t been trying to hurt you. I simply wanted you to declare your intentions as openly as I did.”

Ratchet gaped up at him flabbergasted. He...that...slag him to scrap!

Why in Primus’s name did he have to be so infuriating reasonable about this? Well, reasonable for Megatron. Why had he been dragging his feet on this? Oh right, Optimus. Frag.

Ratchet set his jaw and leaned up on his toes. Megatron’s optics flashed and he leaned down slightly until their lips met. He let go of Ratchet’s wrists instantly. He was then able to reach up and wrap his arms around the back of Megatron’s neck and pull him down for a deeper kiss without having to stretch up.

When he broke away he pressed his forehead to his and muttered. “That enough of a declaration for you?”

Megatron rumbled fondly. “For now. Next time you should do that in front of your entire command staff instead of just poor Prime.”

Belatedly he remembered Optimus was watching all of this. Megatron hadn’t forgotten...obviously.

He flipped Ratchet around quickly by his shoulders to look at Optimus before draping his arms around his shoulders and leaning over him possessively. Megatron’s field throbbed with want, the word “ _Mine_ ” bloomed heavily against Ratchet’s field and he shivered underneath him as his back pressed flush against his tires.

Ratchet didn’t need to see his face to know exactly what kind of leer he was making at Optimus. Optimus’s face though, that hurt his spark to behold.

Several emotions: confusion, hurt, betrayal, and something that might have been envy flashed over his features as he had retracted his battlemask. Envy of whom though? Ratchet or Megatron? Or maybe both? Frag. Now was the time to find out since Megatron had forced his hand.

He met his blue optics across the plain and tried to make his field reach him where he stood so he could feel how honest he was being. “Optimus, please. Let me explain. When we were negotiating the Omurian alliance both our factions made a translation error, the Decepticons sent their leader and we sent our healer. They made a cultural assumption that Cybertronians were like them and were ruled by a bonded pair. They thought Megatron and I were that bonded pair so we both agreed to keep up the charade long enough to cement an alliance because the Omurians were being approached to join the Black Box Consortia. Which you know would have been a disaster for both factions. As it turns out he and I actually worked...well together and while there we came to an understanding that after cementing the alliance we would declare a ceasefire so both factions could split the items in the alliance fairly. Then this smart aft decided to ruin it by gifting me the entire alliance at the last minute, before leaving me to try and comm him for several weeks to no avail.”

Megatron snorted over his right shoulder and drawled out. “You forgot to mention the part where we clanged like turbo foxes in heat, several times, I might add. That part sort of explains why I’d want to give you the alliance as a courting gift, you know.”

Ratchet groaned and Optimus was glaring at Megatron like he wanted to rip his head off...or frag him. It was almost the same thing with those two. And that gave him pause. He sent off a quick internal comm to Megatron.

_RT: I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work._

This time Megatron actually responded.

**MG: That has yet to be decided, by him, so why don’t we team up again? Present a united force so we can both get everything we want. Or should I say everyone?**

After he sent that he leaned down and ran his lips over Ratchet’s audial, his hand dipping lower to caress his hips while Optimus glared murderously at him.

Ratchet addressed Optimus pleadingly. “Megatron has offered a ceasefire and is willing to come to the table to negotiate an armistice and eventually a peace treaty. We can end this war together, all three of us.”

Optimus looked visibly pained. “Ratchet he’s using you, manipulating you to get at me. Playing some sort of game, he doesn’t mean any of it. How can he?”

Megatron actually stiffened at that. He could feel his field flare with indignation before he addressed Optimus curtly. “I assure you Prime I intend to try for peace. With Ratchet’s assistance. We don’t need you, necessarily, although having you with us would be a very nice bonus. I’m courting Ratchet, and by extension the Autobot’s as a faction. You don’t have to believe my sincerity as Ratchet is the only one whose opinion matters on that. All you have to do is simply allow it to happen. Unless, of course, you’re jealous.”

Ratchet ex-vented heavily, Megatron always poking the beast.

Optimus was biting the inside of his cheek so hard the cables in his neck were twitching.

Megatron’s voice was positively silken as he spoke. “Now if that’s the case, we can certainly come to an accord about that as well. Neither one of us would mind sharing after all, as long as it’s with you.”

Optimus’s vents sucked in air so quickly the space around him rippled with heat warping. His face was absolutely blank but his cheeks turned a bright energon pink. Oh. Ratchet hadn’t seen him blush like that since...since he had been Orion.

Optimus mumbled. “What?”

And Megatron’s field surged in triumph. He and Ratchet broke apart and then started stalking towards Optimus in tandem. Who suddenly looked up at them in mild alarm and took a step back.

Ratchet tried to soothe him a bit, reaching out with his field supportively. “It’ll be okay Optimus, I’m here, nothing bad will happen as long as we work together on this. It’s our first true chance at an armistice. I’ll take the flack from the rest of command for this if it helps. Please? Please let’s do this. Together.”

Megatron’s field on the other hand was hot and hungry and Ratchet knew without looking at him that his grin was positively feral as he rumbled low. “Yes. All three of us _together_.”

Optimus swallowed hard and then something inside him snapped. All the tension slipped out of his frame and he ex-vented raggedly. “Alright. I want...I want to try. First though, the ceasefire is immediate. Tell your forces to stand down.”

Megatron scoffed as he got even closer and Ratchet followed suit closing in on Optimus from his other side as Megatron spoke. “I already have. I did as soon as Skywarp transported Ratchet here to speak with me. You tell _your_ forces to stand down as the fools have still been trying to fight enemies who are refusing to attack and have been evading them for the last fifteen minutes.”

Optimus flinched but sent out the ceasefire comm, Ratchet received it in his HUD as well. They were now within several arm’s lengths of each other and he could feel both of their fields swirling against his. Megatron’s heavy with dark anticipation and Optimus’s fluttering in uncertainty and faint hope. Ratchet flared his out with assurance and also desire. Desire for both of them.

That seemed to be all the signal Megatron needed as he motioned Ratchet to join him in tackling Optimus to the ground. Ratchet reached for his head to kiss him while Megatron went straight for his waist. All three of them landed in an undignified heap on the rocky terrain in a flurry of limbs.

Ratchet had Optimus’s head between both his hands as he smiled down fondly at him. Optimus’s matrix blue optics were blown wide as he stared up at him with wonder. Ratchet leaned in, slowly so Optimus could turn him away if he wanted to, but he didn’t. They kissed, a soft press of lips and Ratchet felt Optimus’s arms reach around his shoulders and pull down closer. Ratchet’s field glowed with happiness as Optimus moved his mouth against his tentatively, almost cautiously.

Ratchet licked into his mouth and Optimus opened his with a gasp, he pulled him up toward him with his hands and suddenly he felt Optimus licking along his lips as well. Just when it was starting to get more heated Optimus bucked up and moaned into his mouth and Ratchet broke away from the kiss to glare back at Megatron suspiciously.

He was right to be suspicious as Megatron had begun to grind his hips up against Optimus’s, hiking his thighs up and over his legs as he kneeled in between them. He grinned wickedly at Ratchet who simply scowled back at him.

Megatron leaned forward and brushed a hand affectionately over Ratchet’s cheek before leading him up by the chin to kiss him. There was a lot more glossa and biting in this kiss compared to Optimus’s but both of them felt good.

Megatron released his chin and broke the kiss before leaning his face into the crook of his neck and whispering. “You ride his face while I spike him. I want to watch you.”

Ratchet’s vocalizer rebooted as tried not to let his spark stop at the thought of that.

He moved back towards Optimus’s face and leaned down to nuzzle at his neck cables, sucking a few and kissing up his audials to the top of his finials and sucking one of the blue tips into his mouth. Optiums moaned, for him this time, and he smiled as he sucked and licked the tip.

He looked down at his expression again and it was dazed, blue optics hazy with pleasure. Whatever Megatron was doing to him was making him writhe though. Ratchet glanced down and saw him pull out his fingers just in time to thrust them back in to Optimus’s sopping wet valve.

That...he wouldn’t have minded watching that for a long time.

Megatron saw him watching and smiled while he curled his fingers up and open inside him and Optimus keened. Ratchet’s valve clenched down on nothing behind his panels and he ex-vented slowly before moving and throwing his leg over the side of Optimus’s head.

Pushed up on his knees he looked down between his legs at Optimus’s stunned face before he transformed away his valve panel. Optimus’s optics came back into focus and he looked up at Ratchet hopefully. Ratchet smiled at him and moved his hips back and forth before bringing them closer to his mouth teasingly. Optimus swallowed hard and then brought his shaking hands up to Ratchet’s hips and pushed his exposed valve down onto his face.

Ratchet let his mouth fall open as he felt Optimus’s glossa and nose brush up through the folds of his valve. He licked into his entrance and Ratchet ground down on his face. His hands flexed on his hips and he hummed appreciatively then he continued to slowly mouth and lick into him.

Optimus found his anterior node and he swirled his glossa around it before gently sucking it into his mouth as Ratchet cried out.

He had been watching the bottom of Optimus’s jaw work against his valve between his legs and glanced up to see Megatron watching with interest, still fingering Optimus’s valve though less urgently now. They locked optics and Ratchet started to move in small circles back and forth against the warm mouth beneath him. He smiled at Megatron mischievously as he ran his hands down to his own hips and dug them into the cabling there, teasing and playing with them before finding the right ones on his inner thigh and languidly tugging at them.

His spike pressurized and Megatron looked down at it appreciatively before leaning down and bringing the inside of Optimus’s knee to his lips where he bit and then kissed the plating there smoothing it down.

Optimus’s mouth groaned up into his valve and Ratchet shuddered. One of Optimus’s hands wandered to his spike and Ratchet’s engine turned over when Optimus started to squeeze it at the same time as he was sucking his node, running his tongue over it in circles.

Ratchet could feel his charge snap white sparks between his valve and Optimus’s mouth and both of them shuddered. He was looking down again watching that big blue hand work over his spike when Optimus shouted loudly and arched up against him.

He snapped his attention down to Megatron who had entered Optimus with his long black spike and was now fragging up into him in slow deep strokes. Now that he had Ratchet’s attention he started to move faster, hips slamming into Optimus’s and making all three of them skid slightly along the ground.

He leaned in, still pounding into him faster and faster, practically bending Optimus in half so he could move close enough to kiss Ratchet. Ratchet had to lean up and away from Optimus’s mouth to do it, but he was no longer mouthing against him as steadily. Optimus was being fragged into the ground too hard for him to do much of anything except moan up against Ratchet’s dripping valve.

The kiss was hot and sloppy and Ratchet enjoyed it immensely as Optimus’s hand gripped his spike in uncoordinated thrusts until Optimus overloaded, shaking while he arched back off the ground screaming wordlessly.

Megatron moved and pulled out of him with a loud squelch before reaching forward and dragging Ratchet towards him. His hands lifted him up under his knees and brought him up against his chest. He kissed him again and then sank his spike into his valve in one aching stroke.

Ratchet shouted his name but Megatron kissed him through it as he started to thrust up into him as well. He lost himself in the full feel of the stretch, and the burn of his cooling system failing its job as Megatron fragged him while nearly on top of Optimus.

At that thought Ratchet overloaded so hard his hands dug into the plating on Megatron’s back deep enough to leave furrows as he screamed. Several more deep strokes and Megatron buried his face in Ratchet’s neck as he overloaded inside of him as well, chanting his name over and over again like prayer.

The feel of it made him shake as he onlined his optics after whiting out. He turned to look back at Optimus who had been watching them greedily with darkened navy optics. Megatron kissed his neck lazily before lifting him up and slowly pulling out, Ratchet watched as his spike left him, its surface covered in their mingled lubricants.

He resisted the urge to lick it clean and instead kissed Megatron once more before he broke the kiss to lay down next to Optimus. All three of them laid down shoulder to shoulder and stared up at the darkening sky in sated silence. Ratchet was in the middle, both the bigger bots wordlessly taking one of his hands in their own.

Optimus was the first to speak, his voice a rasping rumble. “Megatron, are all our negotiation sessions going to end that way? I feel like I need to know in advance in order to plan accordingly.”

Megatron’s laugh boomed across the empty landscape around them as he turned onto his side to look at Optimus. “Pit yes! They had certainly better. And what of it Optimus? Trying to make sure you hurry all the command officers from both factions out of the room before Ratchet and I bend you over a table?”

Optimus huffed a laugh as well. “No, not particularly. I was just trying to know whether or not to tell Wheeljack to reinforce all the tables in the conference rooms before the negotiations begin.”

Both Megatron and Ratchet chuckled at that before Ratchet cut in. “Better have Perceptor do it instead, unless we want the table to combust under our afts while we’re trying to frag on it.”

Again more tired laughter from all three of them. Ratchet sighed and looked over at both of them fondly. Before muttering. “I’m sure as pit not explaining all of this to Prowl by the way, sorry Optimus. Also we’re all too damn old to be laying down on the ground like this. We’re going to need one obscenely oversized berth in the near future.”

Both of the larger bots practically beamed at him, their fields reaching out with nothing but satisfied affection.

He wasn’t sure exactly how all of this had happened, Megatron’s scheming no doubt could take most of the credit. But he wasn’t complaining, even though his back struts were starting to.

There was no place in the universe he’d rather be than sandwiched in between these two foolish, beautiful, colossal pains in the aft. For the first time in several million years Ratchet had everything he wanted plus some things to hope for. All in all not a bad way to start the beginning of a new era.

 


End file.
